


Graphic Art for Whitechapel

by lotrspnfangirl_graphics



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Art, Blood, Blood and Gore, Cover Art, Digital Art, NSFW Art, SPN Dark Fic Big Bang 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 16:57:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20567753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotrspnfangirl_graphics/pseuds/lotrspnfangirl_graphics
Summary: Graphic Art Masterpost for Whitechapel, a 2019 SPN Dark Fic, written by BeesAreAwesome





	Graphic Art for Whitechapel

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Whitechapel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20553332) by [BeesAreAwesome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeesAreAwesome/pseuds/BeesAreAwesome). 

> Holy crap. It was so much fun working on this fic!! Not only was the story writing engaging, but Bees was awesome to work with (and _super_ patient because me and discord? Yeah, not really friends 😂). Everyone should head over to read Whitechapel and give Bees some love!!!!

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Title Banner

Dividers

Chapter Banners & Art

When Sam enters the Ten Bells Public House, he is delighted to find his brother already holding a corner table, and quickly walks over to join him and the well-coiffed, elegant man beside him.

Dean is broken out of his reverie at the prepubescent squeaking of a newsboy calling out the morning headlines. “LEATHER APRON THE ONLY NAME LINKED WITH THE WHITECHAPEL MURDERS! THE STRANGE CHARACTER WHO PROWLS ABOUT AFTER MIDNIGHT. UNIVERSAL FEAR AMONG WOMEN - SLIPPERED FEET AND A SHARP KNIFE!”

“Cas, take a look at this. This patient suffered from general paresis of the insane, a fatal symptom of late stage syphilis. We have been able to distinguish this malady from other forms of dementia due to the light-near dissociation of the pupils to those having contracted syphilis.” Castiel nods his head. Being a surgeon, he would likely have read the latest discoveries of the disease in the medical journals and this would be redundant information to him. Sam slides the basin over to Cas, who, at Sam’s gesture, gently picks the brain up and studies it closely.

Dean wakes in the early hours of the morning and rolls over to see Castiel still sound asleep beside him. It is a sight he would like to get used to. The man is all together the image of serenity, angelic in the morning light.

When he returns to the parlor, Dean has not moved. His hands clutch his knees tight, turning his knuckles white with the strain. Cas lightly grasps him by the shoulders to urge him to lie back, then lifts Dean’s legs behind the knees to swing him fully onto the settee. He then rolls the sleeve up on Dean’s linen shirt and prepares him for the dose. “This will calm your nerves, but you’ll feel a pinch first.”

Dean runs up to the group and shoves the men off of the family,pointing his pistol to the underside of the tallest thug's chin. He cannot in good conscience pull the trigger when there are so many people about, but he memorises the man’s face and vows to himself to act later. He cocks the hammer, regardless.

“He is up the stairs. I am afraid we had no choice but to put the man down, else he kill us both with his bare hands! My friend is still within and does not do well.” He runs up the stairs and back to Dean, who is still rocking back and forth, holding the limp carcass of his younger brother. He is blood-spattered and beautiful. If only Castiel had the gift of art, he would hold onto this image and paint it, forever capturing the haunted perfection behind Dean’s eyes. He shakes his head to clear it of the thoughts. No, not like this; Dean has slain his own kin, the only family he has ever truly known. Castiel will not think on the beauty of it.

And so on the 5th of November, as he and Mary Jane are watching the pyrotechnics display over the Thames, Dean brings up the topic of leaving London. “Where would you like to go? Anywhere in the world; the sky's the limit.”

Castiel is sat on the edge of the small bed. Mary Jane is laid out next to him on her back, head tilted to the side so Dean can see her face quite clearly. She appears to be sleeping at first glance, though Dean suspects Castiel has done something to her. The longer he looks, the more he can see that she has had her throat cut, the dark blood hidden beneath a dirty, off-white blanket. Dean finds it peculiar that he feels only relief and no sense of foreboding whatsoever.


End file.
